Drop off point reached, they disembarked from the chopper down secured lines. As soon as their feet touched soil, carabiners were disengaged, and they each took up a defensive position.
Sheppard instinctively gripped his P90, aiming it up and straight ahead, finger poised on the trigger as his eyes scanned their surroundings for movement. Satisfied that they were momentarily safe, Sheppard fished into his tactical vest pocket and retrieved a Life Signs Detector, his only memento from Atlantis.
He was surprised to see that the surrounding area was clear, as their pilot had informed him, still having suspected that they would come across at least one Afghan patrol.
It was almost too quiet.
----------------------
Sheppard was feeling the full brunt of responsibility.
Ten new recruits were standing in front of him, ready to be molded into the soldiers that they would eventually be. All fresh out of basic training, they awaited eagerly for their new CO to speak.
Lorne was standing off to his right, probably smirking, as he watched Sheppard squirm. Lorne knew that his CO loathed giving inspirational speeches and being subjected to forced formality, so Lorne wasn't surprised when the first thing Sheppard said was, "Stand at ease."
The men before him looked at one another with wide eyes before slowly relaxing in what looked like an awkward and unintended Mexican wave.
Sheppard nodded and turned to Lorne, who was indeed smiling.
"This is Mx787. It's an uninhabited planet, looks……. a bit like a Vancouver forest. We use it for training, but you need to know that there is still a threat here."
"You've had your orientations, so you know what's at stake here. Anything can and will happen in the Pegasus galaxy."
Sheppard paused and decided to plough ahead pacing back and forth as he ordered his thoughts, "Firstly, there are three important rules that I want you to abide by."
Sheppard turned to Lorne again.
"And Major Lorne will tell you the first of these rules."
Lorne's smile slowly became a down turned frown and he gave Sheppard a good-natured glare.
Sheppard walked over to him and handed him a crumpled slip of paper where he had hastily scribbled down his three most important ideals.
Lorne read the first line aloud, "Rule number one. Always work together-" he met Sheppard's eyes, "-as a team. Watch each other's back. You watch your partner's back and he watches yours. That way, whatever the situation, you both get out alive."
--------
"What's that?" Collins asked peering over Sheppard's shoulder as the chopper deserted them, stirring up the dirt like a mini tornado, and becoming a distant blip in the blue sky above them.
Sheppard held his hand up and concentrated on looking at the screen. There was nothing around them so far. He jostled his gun and the LSD into a comfortable position and ignoring Collin's question shouted, "Let's move out! I'll take point, Lt Laraby take our six! Keep your eyes and ears open!"
He set off, trudging deliberately forward, sensing the tension amongst his men and their distaste at following his orders.
They had only been walking for ten minutes when Sheppard realized the full extent of their aversion.
Two distinctive voices had grumbled over their footfalls and feeling his last nerve give way, Sheppard stopped abruptly and turned on his heel to see Laraby and Collins, looking at him with wide eyes, mouths half open from their interrupted conversation.
"If you have a problem I suggest you voice it now," Sheppard stated feeling more and more like a diplomatic speaker. He swallowed the lump in his throat; he could really have used Elizabeth right now. With a pang of sadness, he noted how much he missed her, his friends and Atlantis.
Laraby looked down at the ground, "It's nothing Sir," he muttered stressing the 'Sir'.
It obviously was.
Sheppard closed his eyes briefly, letting a cool breeze brush his face and freeze the droplets of perspiration that were rolling down his cheeks. He was tired of fighting with these men. With the last few days catching up with him, he could feel himself reaching breaking point, just as he had broken when the Genii had stormed Atlantis. He carefully cultivated a relaxed exterior and it usually took a lot for that exterior to crack. He could feel it cracking now. For him to do this job, he would have to get angry.
After a few seconds, he snapped his eyes open, took a step forward, and grabbed Laraby by his wrist.
He proceeded to drag the Lt away from the rest of the men like a petulant child, all the while silent and in forced control.
The mask was slipping. All of the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of Laraby and these men, all of the anger he felt towards Stark started to boil to the surface and threaten to spill out and burn anything in its path.
When Sheppard had reached a good distance, he let go of Laraby's wrist and said, "This isn't a playground."
Laraby clenched his jaw, fingers rubbing his sore wrist as he stared down at the ground.
"Alex's death wasn't entirely my fault," Sheppard began knowing why Laraby had enacted his revenge on him and why he was having problems following his authority now.
He felt as though he was in front of the reviewing board again. Being blamed.
Laraby looked up suddenly, the faint glimmer of a tremor around his mouth.
"You need to keep your head clear and your eyes open. I'm not about to have another death on my conscience."
Laraby didn't move.
"You're supposed to be one of the best the military has. Act like it," said Sheppard as he pushed passed him.
He reached the rest of the men in a few strides, "Anyone else want a one on one?" he asked.
"No?" he questioned, sounding more and more like Stark with every passing second, "Good. Now move. Out!"
Unexpectedly, his team followed him, their feet soundlessly embracing the ground, their breathing in complete synchronicity. The chatter had ceased and instead the men were focused. Focused on not stepping out of line and incurring their CO's wrath.
As they neared the supposed entrance to the caverns, Sheppard could feel his insides twisting. He had a sickness in his stomach that mere mental commands could not rid him of the rolling sensation.
His nausea continued in waves and he wondered if his men's respect would follow suit. They'd eventually question him again and again, he would have to assert authority and push through. He wished he could give them a resume of his recent acts. The Genii, the successful destruction of numerous Hive ships, his high position within Atlantis. He wondered whether any of that would make a difference to them.
He knew that they could potentially come across a formidable enemy and he was taking five uninformed men with him. They needed to follow his lead and trust him. That was difficult to instill when Laraby was the vocal antagonist of the team. He just couldn't let go of the past.
The past.
Sheppard swallowed.
So many regrets resurfaced in that single moment. Alex, Holland, Sumner, Gaul, Abrams……sixty Genii….the list went on and on.
Moreover, he couldn't stop thinking about the fact that they all had no family.
They were all expendable.
As his hands began to sweat in the heat of the day, Sheppard was aware that his hold on his P90 was becoming negligible, and that obsessing on the reasons they were chosen for this mission wasn't helping him any. He had to be in command. He had to show these men that his mind was a blank canvas, that his actions were based purely on instinct and expertise.
They'd been walking for an hour, each of them sweating, stopping sporadically to have a sip on a canteen or wipe their beaded brows with the back of their hands. They moved in complete unison as if they were borne of the same unit and not just cobbled together. It seemed that Laraby's sudden silence was enough to beat the men into submission.
Sheppard knew that it didn't mean they were on any common ground. It just meant that they were letting their training take over, utilizing the skills they had learnt to move as one. Watching each other's backs because they had to.
Sheppard could see the entrance to the catacombs ahead. He methodically scanned the ground, much as Ronon would have, for tracks. He could have used Ronon around. He could have intimidated his men with his great hulking stature. Then, he wouldn't have had so much trouble off them.
He held up a fist and bent down onto one knee. The LSD was showing five life signs within the catacombs but no others. Sheppard licked his lips. Those five blips could be wraith or they could be Afghans, hell, they could be camel spiders for all he knew. The LSD was not clear in deciphering what each thing was and he was beginning to wish that he had Rodney along for the ride.
Ronon, Rodney…….he about wished the whole team was there.
They huddled together, hidden behind an outcrop of rock. Laraby pulled his backpack off his shoulder and carefully zipped it open to check the explosive contents.
Sheppard could see that his men were waiting for him to speak, but he couldn't keep his eyes off the explosives.
Something wasn't sitting right.
"Put those away," Sheppard instructed Laraby.
He reached into his pocket and retrieved a bulky radio. It was a secure link back to Stark.
"Stay here," Sheppard said as he moved carefully away from his men shuffling in a tight crouch to stay hidden by the out jutting rocks.
He was glad to see that his team were marking their position carefully and watching his back as he dialed the requisite number to contact base.
"Failsafe, this is Groundhog. Do you read me?"
He heard a wave of static over the airways and tried a second time, glancing back to his men and making sure they were uncompromised.
"Failsafe this is groundhog."
He could hear intermittent clicks as the operators connected him. Seconds passed as he waited for Failsafe to be contacted.
The radio stuttered and staggered and finally a voice broke through, clear and concise, "This is Failsafe."
Sheppard recognized Stark's voice instantly and his sickness returned.
"Failsafe, Groundhog requests information immediately." Sheppard gripped the radio tightly in his hand.
"Communications should not be made on this channel."
Sheppard gripped the radio tightly and spoke rapidly, "I know. Groundhog requires important Intel."
Silence descended upon him and he watched as the wind picked up some of the dirt around his boots as he waited.
"Understood. What nature?"
Sheppard licked his lips, he could feel perspiration dripping off him, beading his brow and making his T-shirt cling to his back, "Groundhog wants to know Failsafe's true intentions." Sheppard swallowed convulsively. What he was asking could get him in a lot of trouble. Hell, he was already in trouble.
There was silence over the airwaves.
"Failsafe?"
More static.
"Failsafe?"
Sheppard could see his men looking over to him now, their eyes narrowed, wondering what was so important that Sheppard should break mission protocol.
"Failsafe?"
Static.
"Failsafe?"
"Groundhog. You have two hours to complete. Birds are in flight."
Sheppard felt his grip on the radio slip as he took in a shaky breath, "Understood."
He switched off the radio and pocketed it in one smooth motion.
Birds in flight.
An air strike.
It wouldn't completely destroy the Hive ship, but it would hopefully bury it. If they failed and didn't blow the ship internally, they were probably dead anyway.
Two hours.
Sheppard checked his watch as he hurriedly returned to his team.
One hour and fifty-nine minutes left.
"Sir?" Cole, one of the younger of the recruits, but one of the top of his class, met his CO's eyes with a look of tempered worry.
Sheppard tried to keep his face neutral even though anger was warring with a distant acceptance.
What he was about to say…..he was going to be taking a big risk. But, if it paid off……..
"The mission brief has changed," Sheppard stated.
Collins exchanged a confused look with Martins.
"I know," Sheppard said quickly, "We're now going in to retrieve data stored in a central room and then we're going to set a self destruct."
"Data?" Cole asked, "What data?"
"Intel," Sheppard lied.
"How do you know that there even is a self destruct?" Collins asked.
Sheppard sighed, "I've seen the schematics of this ship on the radar and…." He paused, "I've seen this type of thing before."
Laraby was pursing his lips, his fingers fidgeting nervously, his foot tapping on the dusty ground, "What the hell is this shit? What do you know?"
Sheppard was torn. He'd been told not to say a word, but it was becoming evident that he would have to give a little information. After all, they would have found out eventually that he had a unique insight into the layout of the ship. Explaining everything would take time, time that they didn't have. He didn't have time to tell them about the wraith, to have them ask him questions or even worse not believe him and then refuse outright to do the mission.
He had been told to omit information about the wraith because it was suspected that the wraith could not have survived for such a long time under these conditions. Therefore, the team would go in and out, believing they were destroying a new type of aircraft, and would be none the wiser about the plight in the Pegasus galaxy.
"The important thing that you need to know right now is that Colonel Stark has ordered an air strike on our position. He has given us-" Sheppard checked his watch and grimaced, "One hour and fifty five minutes to go inside and blow this ship to shit."
Again nervous looks were exchanged.
"That's not enough time," Martins stated running his hand over his dark hair.
"Why would he do that?" Collins asked with a note of suspicion in his voice.
Sheppard ignored their comments and continued, "Now, I know of a way to destroy the craft, but I also need to retrieve data stored in one of its rooms."
"I was called on this mission to lay explosives," Laraby exclaimed.
"Forget the explosives," Sheppard said in a low voice, "We're going in and getting out, all within that hour."
"I want to talk to Colonel Stark," Laraby stated.
"That won't be possible."
"Something's going on. I don't trust you. I want to talk to the Colonel."
"I told you. The mission brief has changed," Sheppard said as he placed a protective hand over the radio.
"Why would Colonel Stark order an air strike? That makes no sense," Andrews pondered, "Could we even get in and out in time?"
Laraby shook his head.
Sheppard looked at each of his teams faces. Why was Stark doing this?
He tried to think coherently.
They had been sent on a mission to destroy a hive ship, or ship of unknown nationality as his men knew, none of them had any discernable family and an air strike had been ordered giving them little or no time to destroy the ship themselves or get away from the target area.
If Sheppard hadn't known better he would say that he and the others were being set up.
Was that true? Why would Stark want Sheppard out of the way?
Sheppard let out a frustrated sigh.
He felt sick. Damn! Even if they got out alive, away from the blast, the air strike would consist of multiple hits…..they would probably be killed as they ran away to safety.
He could not rely on an air strike taking out the Hive ship. It had to be destroyed from the inside, which meant they were going in. If they managed to set the self-destruct they could get in and out quickly and then get Stark to cancel the strike.
It all made no sense.
"Look," Sheppard said quickly, "I've told you the mission. In and out as fast as possible and then we can all get back and Laraby," Sheppard met his eyes coldly; "You can lodge an official complaint to which I'm sure Colonel Stark will obligingly follow through. Now right this moment, we need to move quickly!"
He took another look at the LSD and then shoved it back into his pocket.
"This way," he stated calmly getting back up and starting forward.
Get in, set the self-destruct, grab data if they have time and out.
Easy.
He stopped after a moment and realized they weren't following.
"You need to start focusing. Whether you like it or not, we are a team. Now you watch my back and I'll watch yours. That way we get out alive."
Sheppard waited.
"The air strike," Laraby stated.
"We'll call it off once we've set the timer for the self destruct. Stark won't risk having visible US airplanes in the sky if he can help it."
He hoped.
"Lets move."
Andrews spoke first, "Yes Sir."
Sheppard nodded, "This way."
As he moved towards the dark entrance to the catacombs, he could feel his heart rate beginning to increase and the sickness escalating. He swallowed a number of times, and turned back to his insolent team as they were swallowed by the mouth of the cave and admitted into the yawning jaws of danger.
Sensing their low moods and distrust, Sheppard flicked on the light to his P90 and whispered,
"I need you to listen to me. I need you to do what I say or you're dead in here."
He was keeping his tone low and even, fearful that his voice would carry through to the blips and alert them to their position. Whatever those blips were.
He watched as each of his men shared looks. He realized that they had seen his remark as a threat and he decided to amend it before they continued.
"And it won't be at my hands, trust me," he stated before he turned around.
Sheppard's P90 light cut through the darkness like a knife through butter, illuminating a narrow passageway where the walls looked manmade and smooth.
Perhaps the Hive ship had been buried and the Afghans had pick axed their way in. Right into danger?
Sheppard took a step forward and started through the passageway uncertain as to what he would find the further they ventured inside.
TBC
Oh dear, hope this all makes sense…….very hard to write……..trying not to get myself muddled! Please review!